


Lock & Key

by MyShipWillNeverSink



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Isolation, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a ridiculous amount of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyShipWillNeverSink/pseuds/MyShipWillNeverSink
Summary: Canon divergent from 9x03. Dean and Cas set off on a hunt as a distraction from the guilt Dean feels for betraying his brother’s trust (again). Things go awry when Castiel falls through a frozen river, and things aren’t at all what they seem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've undergone so much change in my life since I started writing this in February, but this story has kept me grounded. It's been like my child for the past few months, and I don't know how many times I've completely rewritten parts of it. I'm sad to let go of it and free it into the wild, but also relieved that I don't have to worry about it anymore. 
> 
> Special thanks to my artist, Gabedrawz! Your art is beautiful and I could stare at it for hours. 
> 
> Also a big shout out to my betas, captainhaterade and cinnamonrollhagrid. A lot of this was written while I was delirious with exhaustion from work and the story probably wouldn't make any sense without you guys.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152594002@N02/35772247021/in/dateposted-public/)

The air is murderously cold. Castiel is still getting used to feeling things like a human, sure, but he doesn’t understand how Dean can look so completely nonchalant about the way the wind feels like tiny needles piercing the skin. Perhaps he’s developed an immunity to this sort of thing; Castiel just needs to develop thicker skin over time. Until that time comes, however, he can’t stand the way he feels the cold down to his bones. 

“It’s starting to snow again.” 

“I know, Cas.” Dean heaves a sigh. “We’ve still got plenty of daylight. Nothin’ to worry about, man.” They’ve travelled all the way to the northern part of Montana to take care of a Wendigo, something Dean had been strangely giddy about, but they haven’t pinned down the location yet. They’re trying one more small cave in the area before calling it a day, heading to a motel in the nearest town for the night, and trying again tomorrow. Cas doesn’t mind, but he’s worried about how eager Dean seems to kill something. 

It’s been two weeks since Sam left the bunker, freshly stung with hurt and betrayal from finding out Dean had let an angel camp out in his headspace for so long. Castiel knows Sam will eventually come around, that the brothers always end up forgiving each other no matter what; but until then, Dean isn’t taking his absence very well.

They reach the tree line and can see a wide expanse of white, untouched snow, spread out for a few hundred yards before the trees take over the landscape again. Castiel considers asking Dean if they should follow the tree line instead of venturing out into the open, but doesn’t want to bother him again. They trek on. 

Or they would, if not for the loud, ominous _crunch_ they hear about 50 yards in. Dean freezes where he stands and holds his arm out toward Cas. “Do. Not. Move.” 

The urgency in Dean’s voice is really what makes him stop, more than the words themselves. It wasn’t very often Dean is rattled by something that doesn’t have a weapon in his face, and even then, he’s usually rather composed. Unfortunately, Castiel is mid-step when ordered not to move, and hasn’t quite mastered perfect balance. He gently sets his left foot down into the soft snow, trying hard not to place any weight on it. It doesn’t matter. 

Everything happens rather quickly. The ice cracks open underneath Castiel’s right leg, the one he's been putting all his weight on, and he goes down like a bag of bricks. He feels the ice slice into his knee; as he descends underneath, he knocks his head against the edge, and then he sees black. 

~

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean yells as he hurls himself over to the hole Cas is floating in. At the very least, he isn’t floating _under_ the ice, so that’s something. Little blessings. 

Dean reaches in to pull him out and finds it a lot harder than he expected. Goddamn water and adding a ton of weight to clothing. When he finally gets him mostly up onto the solid ice and snow, he notices a trickle of blood running down the side of his face and a rip in his right pant leg. “Fuck,” he mutters. He hadn't been under long, but his lips are already starting to turn blue, and Dean is starting to feel panic rise in his throat. 

The surrounding landscape is pretty barren, and the car is parked at least a mile away. Where the fuck are they going to go? He has to get Cas warm before they continued onward. Just beyond the tree line to their left, Dean could make out a moss-covered cabin that looked as though it had been empty for a while. A cabin that had definitely not been there before. He pauses and wracks his brain for a memory of the cabin, but comes up blank. It goes against every survival instinct he has, but he’s feeling desperate and stupid, so he decides to take the chance. 

“Son of a bitch,” he says under his breath, and leans down to pull Cas up halfway onto his back and side, right arm over Dean’s right shoulder so he can hold him in place. He starts walking towards the cabin. 

The snow’s stopped at least, and it’s bright enough outside to feel better about having to shack up in a creepy-looking cabin for a few hours. _If I can just have enough luck for there to not be a murderer living inside, this’ll be peachy_ , he thinks. 

They reach the cabin in a few minutes, and Cas is just starting to come around. Dean’s been checking on him every couple of minutes (alright, every 15 seconds, whatever), and all he can really tell is that he isn’t dead. A definite plus. 

“Dean...What…?” 

“It's alright, man, we’re gonna get you in here, start a fire, and warm you up.” Dean’s been trying very hard not to think about that last part, focusing instead on looking around to see if there’s any salvageable firewood in case the cabin doesn’t have any. But there’s a voice in the back of his head, screaming the whole time about how he is going to have to undress his best friend and possibly cuddle up to him naked. He hasn’t analyzed why the voice is screaming just yet. 

Dean twists the knob to the front door and is surprised to find it unlocked and easy to open. That feels suspicious ( _please no murderers, come on_ ), but he has no choice but to press on. He heaves Cas in and drops him on the first soft surface he sees, a long and ugly patterned couch with quilts all over it. Cas is shivering now, his whole body convulsing every couple of seconds, and his teeth are chattering dangerously hard. 

“Alright, buddy, let’s get you out of these clothes. You're going to be fine.” He schools his voice into something so soothing he wonders if he's missed his calling as a school nurse. He peels the trench coat off of Cas’s sopping wet body and starts to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. He'd forgone the tie at Dean’s request for the duration of the hunt, but had insisted on the rest of his normal wardrobe, no matter how many times Dean told him he should wear something that's easier to move in. Dean assumes he just wants to feel like an angel again, but at some point a line needs to be drawn. 

Truth be told, there are probably a lot of adjustments Cas will learn to make in the next few weeks/months to adapt to being human. The first couple of weeks had been hard enough, according to Cas, but there are still things he hasn't quite figured out yet. He’s so clumsy now, like his grace had been the only thing holding him up before. Maybe, in a way, it had. Recently, he told Dean he hasn't had any dreams yet, that sleep is still hard, but it’ll happen. Hell, Cas probably doesn’t even know how to make macaroni and cheese. Dean’ll have to give him some cooking lessons when they get out of this mess and back to the bunker. 

Bringing his mind back to the present, he pulls Cas’ arms out of his sleeves and yanks the frozen shirt out from under his back. The blood has stopped running from his head so he decides to wait to check it out. Dean hurries to get the frozen man’s pants off, carefully not thinking about anything except the gash on his knee - which looks a little worse than it probably is. He tugs his socks and shoes off and quickly pulls his sopping wet boxers off, glancing around the room for a blanket (and pointedly not looking at Cas). There’s a bed in the back corner, another huge quilt thrown over it, so Dean wraps his arms around Cas and pulls him up. After getting him on the bed, wrapping the blanket around him, and promising he'll be right back, he looks around for wood to throw in the fireplace and some matches. 

Strangely, it looks as though the fireplace has been lit not long ago, and there’s a box of matches next to a small pile of wood. Thinking things are turning out far too conveniently, he lights the fire anyway, and bangs through the cabinets looking for a first aid kid somewhere. Not finding one in the kitchen, he takes off down a small hallway. So small, he only sees a window seat with some books around it on one side and a door on the other. The door leads to a small bathroom that has the hookups for a toilet, but is missing one. “What the fuck,” Dean whispers to himself, wondering why the bathroom is missing the most important part when the rest of the place is complete. He rummages through a medicine cabinet above the sink and finds an old first aid kit. Finally. 

He takes the gauze from the kit to Cas, pulling the blankets back even as Cas moans in protest and carefully wraps his knee. That taken care of, he sighs before undressing himself. He keeps his boxers on because they’re warm and dry anyway and hey, he’s allowed to have some boundaries. Keeping this one small article of clothing on makes him feel like he has more control over the situation. 

Cas is in the middle of the bed, curled up tight and convulsing with tremors. Dean quickly slides in behind him and wraps his arms around his torso, slots his knees behind the other man’s, and buries his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. His skin is freezing and Dean hopes the fire at his front will help warm that half of Cas’s body. Cas’s fingers find Dean's and Dean makes a cocoon with his palms to hold the body heat to them. It takes a while, but eventually the shaking subsides and he relaxes against the hunter, his breath evening out as sleep takes him under. 

Dean is still trying to keep his thoughts carefully blank, but as exhaustion takes over, he finds it harder to focus. He starts to realize how nice it feels to be this close to Cas, how long it’s been since he’s been even situationally intimate with someone like this, how his fingers rub patterns on the back of Cas’s hands without him realizing…

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152594002@N02/35081927624/in/dateposted-public/)

~

Extraordinarily warm. That’s what Castiel feels as he slowly wakes up, groggy from a deep and dreamless sleep. Not that he dreams much, anyway. But he can tell that he’s been sleeping a long time by the weird way his mouth feels fuzzy. 

A few things register slowly as his eyes open. One, that he’s in a bed in front of a fire that’s burning low, like it’ll be out anytime now. Two, that his head and his knee are throbbing, his knee more so than his head. When he reaches up to touch the wound on his head, he realizes Three, that someone’s arms are wrapped tight around him and that someone is snoring softly in his ear. Dean. 

Oh, and he’s naked. 

The last realization comes almost as an afterthought, though now that he’s aware of it he can’t stop thinking about it. Cas can feel the press of Dean’s chest against his back and it feels… good. Really good. He’s still getting used to contact with people as a human and it’s almost a sensory overload, having Dean pressed against him like that. He shifts against Castiel’s back slightly, murmuring in his sleep and moving one of his hands gently down Cas’s chest, stopping to rest at his stomach. Cas freezes, breath catching. 

Before Dean had taken him in, he'd had that… encounter with the Reaper, April. It had been exhilarating and weird and he'd realized how _good_ being a human could be. The mindless pleasure had taken his mind off of Bartholomew for a little while, and it had been enjoyable. 

When Dean took him in and Cas got over being betrayed by April, he'd started to wonder what sex might be like with other people. What that intimacy might feel like with different personalities, body types…body parts. And then one night he'd accidentally overheard what he thinks was Dean masturbating in the shower. His face flushed red, he'd hurried to his room and closed the door, breath coming quickly as he leaned against the wall. 

It didn't take him long to acknowledge that he was aroused by the thought of Dean masturbating. The acknowledgement opened up a flood of questions in his mind, the answers for which explained so many things in the past few years. Why he feels more comfortable standing so close to Dean. Why he's always looked at Dean’s lips like they hold the answers to all of his problems. He’s attracted to his best friend, the Righteous Man, and as soon as that thought was acknowledged, it was carefully stored away in the back of his mind, where it couldn't be touched. 

That door he’d locked that thought behind is creaking open, as slowly as Dean’s thumb smoothing the tiny hairs on Castiel’s stomach. Like a slow and steady stream of lava, Castiel feels the creep of pure _want_ flow through him, and he realizes he’s getting hard. How embarrassing. Dean mumbles and shifts again. Cas just knows he’s about to wake up, and he has to diffuse the situation _now_. 

He starts climbing out of bed, quickly, trying to put as much distance between him and Dean as possible. Unfortunately, as soon as he stands up and he hears Dean murmur, “Wuss goin’ on?” uncontrollable shivers wrack his body and his knee is so bruised it gives out as soon as he puts his weight on it. He falls to the ground. 

“Cas!” Dean yells, already alert as he hops out of bed and tucks his arms under Cas’s, lifting him up so he’s flush against Dean’s chest. Castiel whimpers, and hopes against all hope that Dean assumes the sound is because of the pain and not because his erection is now rubbing against Dean’s boxers. “Your knee is injured and you’re still recovering from being dumped in an ice bucket, you idiot. C’mon, let’s get you back in bed and check out your injuries.” 

Cas gingerly rolls himself back onto the bed and quickly covers himself up. If Dean saw anything, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he walks towards the small kitchen area and grabs the first aid kit. He unwraps the gauze from Castiel’s knee and hums. 

“It should heal fine as long as we keep it covered. It's bruising around the cut, which is why it hurts to put too much pressure on it. You'll be fine on that end. Now sit up and let me see your head.”

Cas sits up, letting the blankets pool at his waist, and closes his eyes as Dean runs his fingers gently through his hair, checking for bumps. There’s one, right behind his hairline by his left temple. When Dean touches it, Cas winces, but it isn’t that bad. Dean says as much. “I don't think you have a concussion, but you should take it easy when we get back to the bunker.”

“I should get dressed so we can head out.” He reaches down to pull the blanket off of himself, but Dean stops him. 

“Man, no. We’re gonna hang tight here for a bit, until you stop shivering. And I, uh,” he pauses and scratches his neck sheepishly, “I found some soap and washed the blood out of your clothes after you'd been asleep for a couple hours. They're drying in front of the fire.” 

Cas leans to the left and stares at his clothes, carefully laid out on the rug in front of the fire. He feels a surge of affection. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Don't mention it,” he replies gruffly. 

The door in his head keeps creeping further and further open. The dismay he feels, knowing he’ll never be able to express the feelings consuming his newly human soul, is unbearable. 


	2. Chapter 2

After Dean decides they won’t be leaving right away, they both decide to try to sleep through the night to pass time. Dean rekindles the fire and gets in the bed behind Cas. He doesn’t touch him this time, just stays behind him in case Cas starts shivering again. 

He can’t deny to himself how much he wants to touch. 

Quickly, he forces those thoughts aside. He can’t afford to feel those things, especially not for Cas. Dean usually does a pretty solid job of pretending he can’t feel a damn thing, but he knows being stuck in this cabin with the man is not going to help his situation. All he can do for now is go into good old repression mode and hope for the best. 

He falls back asleep and when he wakes up again, Cas is pulling his now-dry pants on over clean boxers. He looks up as Dean murmurs in sleepy confusion. 

“I have to urinate. I'm going outside.”

Dean mumbles his assent and falls back onto his pillow. He hasn’t felt this rested in… god, who knows. His sleep had been dreamless and blissful, and getting up sounds terrible, but he kinda has to pee, too. So he drags himself out of bed and tugs his clothes on. He lazily ignores the socks, puts his shoes on without them, and walks to the door to head out. 

Except, the door won’t open. It feels stuck, like the lock accidentally jammed when Cas closed the door. Panicked, he starts pulling at the knob, feeling a yell build up in his throat. Dean runs over to the window and looks out behind the blinds to see if he can see Cas, but everything is white from the fresh blanket of snow that has apparently dumped from the sky overnight. 

A real, solid panic is building inside of him when the doorknob turns and Cas opens the door, like nothing had been wrong with it the whole time. Dean scowls. “What the fuck?” 

Cas looks startled. “What?” 

He walks slowly over to the door and bends down, inspecting the lock. “The door was stuck. I couldn't get out.”

Cas blinks, closes the door, and then promptly opens it again. It isn’t even remotely stuck. “Uh… well. It's not stuck now.”

Narrowing his eyes, Dean brushes past Cas and closes the door behind him. He takes a deep breath of the crisp morning air, feeling thankful that it’s stopped snowing. There has to be at least 10 inches on the ground; another foot and it’ll be up to the door of the cabin. They'll have to make sure to leave before that happens. 

He does his business and turns around to head back inside, pausing before opening the door. It opens again without any resistance, and he decides maybe it was a fluke. Could have been jammed from the inside only somehow. There are more important things to worry about than the faulty front door, anyway. 

~

Castiel is confused by Dean’s strange outburst regarding the door, but he lets it go. He sits down on the couch in front of the fire, leaning his hands forward to warm them up. 

According to Dean’s phone, which is alive but has absolutely no service, it’s around 7am. They've been there for going on 17 hours, and have somehow slept through most of it. Castiel isn’t shaking anymore, and feels nearly normal again. Or as normal he can feel as a human. It seems odd to feel so much better after nearly dying the day before, but he figures it’s the residual effects of having previously been an Angel of the Lord. 

Dean stomps back in, still looking a little disconcerted about the door situation, and toes off his boots. “I don't know about you, but I am starving.”

Cas stands carefully, minding his knee, and looks around the kitchen. “I don't know what…” he halts as he opens the refrigerator door. It’s stocked full of food. Food that hasn't expired. There is cheese and deli meat and fruit, among other things. 

Dean comes up behind him and freezes. “Uh?” 

“Maybe… there are people staying here after all.”

Dean shakes his head. “If there were people here, there would be luggage. Clothes, bathroom shit, the whole nine. This looks like someone just came in a day ago, stocked the fridge, and left.” 

Looking back at the food in the fridge, Cas weighs his options. He can’t really leave - the fact that his legs are going weak as he stands in front of the refrigerator is proof - but it’s been so long since they’ve eaten anything. They have to give it a shot. Shrugging, he reaches for the deli meat and cheese. 

Dean isn’t happy about eating the mystery food, but he acknowledges the fact that they don’t really have a choice. They eat a pleasant enough lunch, but after they’re finished, Castiel notices things are… odd. Dean isn’t meeting his eye and hasn’t said much all morning. Normally, Dean would be complaining that they’re stuck in a cabin, planning on what to do when they can leave, or even just cracking some jokes. The way he won’t look at Castiel makes him feel almost self-conscious, like he somehow knows about Castiel’s sudden resurgence of attraction towards Dean. Impossible, but human brains sometimes don’t go the logical route when panicking. 

Cas wants so badly to bring it up, to ask Dean what his problem is, but he knows it’d be a waste of energy. Honestly, Dean has been through a lot in the past few, well, forever, but recently the fallout with his brother has taken a huge toll on him. Castiel decides it’d be best to give him some space. 

Soon after lunch, Dean sits on the couch and pats the space next to him. “Come here and sit, I gotta check your wounds.”

Nervously, Castiel stands and walks to the couch.

“Just face me and lift your leg onto my lap. Uh, you might want to take your pants off.” Castiel shoots him an incredulous look and Dean rolls his eyes. “I can't exactly roll your jeans up to your thigh.”

Oh. Right. He carefully pulls his pants down and over his ankles, using the couch as support. He refuses to meet Dean’s eyes, uncomfortable by how self-conscious he suddenly feels. He never had a reason to feel ashamed of his body before he fell, but now he finds himself wondering if his body is good enough. _Good enough for Dean_ , a small voice whispers in his head. Castiel quickly shuts that down and sits next to Dean, lifting his leg to rest on Dean’s lap. 

Dean clears his throat and he finally looks up. “You alright? Look like you’re about to have an aneurism.” 

Cas shakes his head. “Just hurts, that’s all,” he mumbles. 

It doesn’t help matters that Dean is so tender with his knee. He unwraps it and gently runs his fingers over the cut, checking for redness and swelling. “Good news, it’s not infected or anything. Does this hurt?” He presses down slightly on the area around the cut and Cas winces, but it isn’t unbearable. 

“A little.” 

Dean hums and fixes his gaze back on the wound, reaching over to grab some antiseptic ointment to apply to the area. Cas uses this time to study the man, taking in his careful expression and the stubble that’s just coming in along his jaw. He’s gorgeous, a face that really matches the beauty of his soul. 

Abruptly, Dean looks up, interrupting Castiel’s train of thought. “How are you, Cas?” 

“Um,” he stammers, confused, “I am well. Besides the injury, I suppose.” 

“No, Cas, I mean, how _are_ you? With the whole human thing? I know it’s been an adjustment, and I want to make sure you’re alright.” 

“Oh.” Castiel pauses to collect his now-scrambled thoughts, staring down at his hands in his lap. “I’m… I don’t know. I miss my grace daily, but it’s amazing to feel so much. Humans have a huge capacity for emotion, and I haven’t been able to get a grasp on it. One minute, I am indescribably happy for something that would have been insignificant to me before, and the next I am crushed by the weight of my sorrow for losing what I had, my purpose, my… everything. And then something like this happens, and I feel even more useless. Like you said, it’s an adjustment.” Castiel takes a deep breath, not used to speaking so much at once. It feels nice to get it out. 

He looks up at Dean and sees much more concern than he was expecting. His hand is still resting on Castiel’s thigh, and he pulls his leg back, feeling distinctly uncomfortable by the scrutiny in Dean’s eyes. It’s a solid minute before Dean speaks. “You aren’t useless, Cas. You’ve never been, and never will be, useless.” 

Cas furrows his brows. “I am, though. I can’t fly or smite and I know how to fight, but as a legitimate hunter, I still have much to learn.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, rolling his eyes, “but this is new to you. Before, you could just put your hand on someone’s forehead and kill them in an instant. It takes time to learn how to use weapons, Cas. But that’s not… just because you’re a little shaky in the hunting department, doesn’t mean I think you’re dead weight or anything. I like having you around.” 

Dean looks away at that and Cas can tell the admission makes him a little uneasy. Rather than ask him to elaborate, like he so desperately wants to do, he decides to change the subject. “I appreciate that, Dean. Um, should we continue the hunt today? There’s still plenty of daylight, and I think I could walk fine. I’m no longer shivering.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Dean studies him for a few moments, as though he can see the status of his health by looking in his eyes. He exhales and slaps his hands on his knees before standing up. “Yeah, we should head out. I’ll just… wash the dishes we used and pack up the first aid kit. Your coat should be dry by now.” 

The moment they were having is gone, Dean his usual stoic self. Cas can’t decide if he’s relieved or mournful. He doesn’t know much about being human yet, but he’s starting to understand what pining feels like. 

~

Not long after lunch, Dean decides it’s time to check Cas’s wounds again. He calls him over and the nervous look on his face is both adorable and… well, it made Dean wonder. What’s he so nervous about?

It’s quiet for a few moments. Dean takes his time with the wound on his knee; he gently touches around it and looks for any signs of infection. As he works, there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head whispering about how the bigger issue here is Castiel’s mental well-being, not his physical wounds. He decides on the spot to just spit it out and ask the man. 

The response is not the one he’s hoping for. 

Dean doesn’t care if somehow Cas lost the ability to move around on his own; no matter what, he wouldn’t be _useless_. He means so much to Dean and Sam. Having Cas gone would be - _has been_ \- like Dean losing a piece of himself. 

After the moment is gone and Dean works on the dishes, the repetitive motions of washing help Dean clear his head a little. Listening to Cas say how he feels… well, it makes Dean both angry and heartbroken. Castiel is one of the most loyal and genuinely good people - creatures? Whatever, _beings_ \- that Dean has ever known. Of course he’s screwed up royally in the past, but so has Dean. So has everybody, honestly. Again, Dean finds himself worried about Cas’s emotional stability. The guy had a martyr complex as an angel, he can’t imagine how much worse that’ll be with the rollercoaster of emotions that come with being a human being.

The memory of the Castiel he met when Zachariah sent him to the future is also on his mind. He’d been so different, but still so weirdly familiar. It had hurt, to see Castiel a shell of who he once was, drugged up and so willing to die. He’d made a vow after he returned to his own time not to let that happen to his Cas, no matter how bad shit got. Even though they’d avoided the apocalypse, 2014 is still a few months away and Cas is human now. Dean can’t help feeling anxious about the mere possibility of that version of his best friend. He’ll go through hell and back to make sure Junkie Cas doesn’t come to pass. 

After scrubbing the plates, he’s tempted to open the cabinet and wash the dishes that are already put away, just to give his hands something to do. Cas has gone outside to piss again and after he comes back in, they’ll be good to go. He’s already put the fire out and is kind of dreading going back to the real world. Taking a day to do something for someone he cares about and not worry about monsters or Metatron or anything like that has been wildly refreshing. But all good things must come to an end. 

Castiel opens the door and kicks the snow off of his boots before walking in, the small gesture bringing a smile to Dean’s face. Cas is so weirdly considerate of everything. 

“Ready to go?” Dean asks, shrugging on his leather jacket. Cas nods and Dean brushes past him to lead the way. He opens the door and right before he can walk out, it slams shut. 

“What the fuck?!” 

Cas reaches around Dean to grab the handle but it won’t even turn. They give each other bewildered looks. 

“I don’t think… this is a normal cabin.” 

Dean kicks the door in anger. “Goddamn it, I _knew_ this place was fishy. I didn’t think I saw it at first when we came into the clearing.” 

Cas raises his eyebrows. “So, what, you think this place just appeared out of thin air?” 

“Well, what the hell else do you expect me to believe? That the cabin just _walked here_ on a whim?” he sputters. 

Cas crosses his arms and scowls. Dean turns away from him and continues to try to open the door, but has absolutely no luck. What is his life? How is it that the weirdest shit always happens to him?

He’s contemplating trying to open a window when Castiel nudges him. “Uh. Dean.” 

“What?” he barks irritably, spinning around to glare at whatever Cas is pointing at. It’s the fridge - there’s writing on a magnetic whiteboard that had previously been blank. _Here we fuckin’ go_ , Dean thinks, exasperated. 

They both walk into the kitchen to get a closer look, and Cas audibly gasps. Dean just groans. 

_What up, my dudes? Or whatever you kids are saying these days. Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you or anything. Consider this a test for me, to see what my reassembled grace can accomplish. Believe it or not, I’m also doing this for you. I’m going to let you both figure it out. Just sit back, relax, and keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times._

_XO, Gabe_


	3. Chapter 3

Dean spends three hours trying everything to get them out of the cabin after finding the note on the fridge. No dice. 

Cas is hell-bent on ignoring Dean while he “gets it out of his system” - Cas’s words, because he fully believes there’s no way out. He makes himself scarce and finds the reading nook Dean had discovered yesterday, stocked full of books. When Dean takes a look in between pacing, he’s appalled by the selection of titles: all of Shakespeare’s tragedies, in omnibus form, every Jane Austen book, and a plethora of Nora Roberts novels. Dean interprets this as another form of torture Gabriel has inflicted upon him, and he takes the Shakespeare omnibus and throws it at one of the windows. It bounces off like the window was made of rubber. 

At Dean’s frustrated growl, Cas puts his book down. “Dean. There’s no point in trying to find a way out. There isn’t one.” 

_How is he being so calm about this?_ The moment he’d seen the note on the fridge, it was like the walls were closing in, and claustrophobia wedged itself into his nerves, the flight in his fight-or-flight reflex an overwhelming instinct. He runs a hand through his hair, huffing in frustration. “Why aren’t you freaking out? We have to get out of here.” 

“Gabriel has made it clear that he’s in control here. We are stuck, yes, but we have food, and shelter, and each other, and that’s more than enough for now.” Calmly, he picks the book back up and continues where he left off, leaving Dean to gape at him.

Oddly, the fact that Castiel isn’t too bothered by this has helped Dean calm down a little. He paces back and forth in front of the couch, occasionally walking to the fridge to see if the message has changed. It never does. 

Gabriel makes Dean nervous. He was disappointed when he was killed, but mostly because Gabriel could have been a very powerful ally. By the time he’d died, Dean had believed Gabriel to be one of the good guys - even if he was a bit of a wildcard. It’s the wildcard aspect that has Dean freaking out now; for god’s sake, the archangel had killed Dean over 200 times just to prove a point to Sam. What if he does that again? Except… what if it’s Cas this time? He’s human now, after all. What’s stopping Gabriel from killing Castiel on loop to prove some weird unknown point to Dean? 

Just the thought makes him nauseous. Dean glances towards the hallway where Castiel is sitting and feels his resolve crumbling. That repression method doesn’t work so well when their lives are on the line, and he finds himself wishing he could give physical comfort to the man. Hell, and receive it. He’s so nervous he can hardly stand it. 

He takes his pacing to the entryway so he can keep an eye on Cas. If anything happens to him because of this stupid _thing_ Gabriel is doing, Dean won’t hesitate to send the archangel back to the pits of Purgatory, where Dean assumes he’s been the past few years. This whole thing might be a lot more intriguing - _Gabriel? Alive? What?_ \- if they weren’t the subjects of this power-testing stunt. 

He also wishes he could call his brother. Sam would have a goddamn cow over this. 

“Dean.” Cas’s voice is right behind him and Dean jerks in surprise, turning towards him and finding him right in his space bubble. Cas doesn’t back up, and neither does Dean. “Perhaps we should make another fire. If we’re going to be here for a while, we might as well warm up the cabin again.” 

It’s at that moment that Dean realizes exactly the situation they’ve got on their hands. They’re stuck in a log cabin, in the middle of nowhere. Just the two of them. For who-the-fuck knows how long. 

Dean stares at Castiel, letting this all run through his mind, and comes to a quick but sturdy decision: Cas can’t know how Dean feels, not here, not like this. He can’t let the close quarters risk the most important friendship in his life. 

~ 

The stranger Dean acts, the more nervous Castiel feels. 

When they discovered the note on the fridge earlier, Castiel had been shocked. He had mourned the loss of his brother when he’d died, and never imagined there would be a day when he would be resurrected. Especially not… like this. 

He’s considered the possibility that this might not actually be Gabriel. But with all of the angels cast from heaven and the nature of their captivity, it’s most likely that the note left for them is legitimately from the archangel. 

After Castiel acknowledges the legitimacy of the situation, the real panic sinks in. Dean is already pacing all around the cabin, huffing and puffing and clearly agitated by being stuck inside. Castiel knows what’s running through his head - with how temperamental and capricious Gabriel has been in the past, what can they expect to be in store for them? Is Gabriel going to keep them in this cabin until they both lose their minds? Is he going to recreate a horror movie situation for his own morbid entertainment? 

That he left them food and warm shelter in the dead of winter comforts Castiel enough to not be hyperventilating like Dean is. After suggesting they build a fire again, Dean goes suspiciously quiet, but Castiel hopes it’s because he’s just finally calming down. 

They simply exist in the same space for a couple of hours. Dean sits leaned forward on the quilt-covered couch with his hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees. Castiel brings a stack of books from the reading nook and sets them in front of the couch. He chooses Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen because the cover looks interesting. Castiel reads through it fairly quickly, and finds himself relating to Jane Bennett in a strange way; he can understand the shyness that prevents her from making her feelings known to the wonderful Mr. Bingley. Castiel glances at Dean before quickly bringing his eyes back to the pages of the book. It isn’t the time to be contemplating his emotions. 

“I should have tried harder.” 

Castiel looks at Dean, who is still sitting in the same position, except looking at the fire now instead of the floor. He closes his book and sets it aside, giving Dean his full attention. “What do you mean?” 

“When Sam found out about Ezekiel, he just… he just left. I let him, figured he needed to get away for a while. I betrayed his trust in one of the worst possible ways, and I knew that he needed to be alone. I should have tried harder to contact him. What if he’s in trouble? There are bound to be other angels who know about Ezekiel now, and I just --” 

“Dean.” 

“I’ve been in here all day worrying about what’s going to happen to us now, you especially, and I didn’t even think about Sammy until about an hour ago, what if he’s --” 

“Dean.”

Dean looks up and his eyes are shining. Castiel feels his heart constrict at the pain clear on Dean’s face. A wild urge to reach forward and take his hand crosses his mind, but he ignores it. He turns his body toward Dean’s on the couch. 

“There’s nothing to be done about it right now. Sam is a grown man, and he’s been on his own before. I have faith in him, and you should, too.” 

Dean’s mouth sets and he fixes his gaze back on the fire. A muscle in his jaw twitches. He says nothing else, but Castiel can guess his thoughts. 

What if _they_ are in trouble?

~ 

The sound of soda slurping through a long straw can be heard over the music drifting from a turntable. Gabriel sets the Polar Pop down on the end table beside his ornate couch, lifting his feet from the coffee table and setting them on the floor. 

“You boys are idiots,” he says to the TV, which shows Castiel and Dean Winchester sulking on the couch in the log cabin. He'd left them a note and everything. He isn't going to kill them, not when he needs their help so badly. 

This really is mostly just a test of his power, to see if he can really do what he used to. When ol’ Dad had pieced Gabriel back together and gave him a special mission, he'd been skeptical. When he found out he needed to involve the Winchesters, he'd been downright distrustful. So he’s decided to take his time. Have a little fun with it, maybe. 

Narrowing his eyes at the screen, Gabriel considers what to do. He’s a man - archangel, whatever - of cunning, and knows how to get what he wants. But these two, they want different things. He has to find a way to convince them both. 

Snapping his fingers, he comes to a decision. It’s time for a different kind of vacation.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean’s just finishing up the dishes from their dinner when he sighs and speaks up for the first time since they'd been sitting on the couch. 

“What are you reading?”

Cas looks up, startled, and Dean immediately feels guilty for being silent most of the day. He and Cas are in it together, and to shut him out like that is unfair. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair and leans back against the counter. 

Looking a little like he wishes Dean hadn’t said anything - which, alright, ouch - Cas sets the book on his lap and glances at it. “Pride and Prejudice. I don’t think you’d like it.” 

He’s heard of the book before, but has no clue what it’s about. Dean pushes off of the counter and makes his way over to the couch, where he sits back in the seat he’s been in all afternoon. This time he turns slightly and gives his full attention to his friend. “Try me. I’m bored and we’re stuck here, and you seem to be enjoying the book, so gimme the scoop.” 

For all the years Dean has known Castiel, he’s picked up on quite a few things about him - he’s a diligent warrior, he’s loyal to a fault, he’s incredibly resourceful. Castiel is a survivor, has been through hell and back and all in between. What Dean hasn’t known until now, listening to Castiel talk about this book, is that Cas is an incredible storyteller. He quietly tells Dean about the story of a girl with too much pride and a man who learns to overcome the prejudices he was raised to have. It sounds like a good story, but after a few minutes, Dean kind of stops listening and pays more attention to the way Cas is using his hands to talk, how he only sometimes glances at Dean before fixing his gaze back on the fireplace. 

He should be trying to figure out a way to get them both out of the cabin, but as much as Dean tries to direct his thoughts toward an escape plan, it just isn’t happening. He’s mesmerised by Cas, and he realizes it’s the most Cas has said in one go that isn’t about a case. He’s just talking about something he enjoys, and that warms something in Dean. 

“The fact that Mr. Darcy took it upon himself to pay Wickam for his and Lydia’s wedding is really what… Dean.” 

Dean blinks, focusing back in on Cas’s specific words. He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah?”

Cas smirks. “You weren’t listening anymore, I could see it in your eyes. If you’re tired, feel free to go to bed. I can stay up and see if anything changes through the night.” 

He _is_ tired. All the pacing and worrying and near-panic attacks throughout the day has left him exhausted. But he wants to hear Cas talking more. “Nah, I’m not tired.” He pauses, looking at his hands. “You seem to really like that book.” 

Cas raises his eyebrows. “Yes, I suppose I do. It’s certainly… frustrating sometimes, but as cliched as it is, it’s nice to see how people believe in a love that can surpass these obstacles.” 

Who knew Cas is a romantic? Dean huffs a laugh. “Sure, it’s nice to read, but Cas, this is fiction. Things don’t… they just don’t work out like that.” _Not in my experience, anyways_.

Cas furrows his brows and stares at the book in his lap. “Maybe, but it’s always possible. If people would just communicate with one another, and actually _try_ , eventually things would come together. There’s always the fear of rejection, but in Jane’s case, she and Bingley could have been together from the beginning if she’d just… said… something.” He trails off and Dean notices the wheels are definitely turning, and by the set of his mouth, he doesn’t like what’s going through his mind. 

Dean scoffs. “Sure, but that’s still all up to chance. You can’t expect someone to share the exact same feelings as you at the exact same time as you in real life. It so rarely happens that way. Any little thing could fuck it all up, so I can’t really blame Jane for not saying anything. I think she had too much pride, too.” 

“Hmm,” Cas hums, “so you think the pride is the real fault here?” 

“No, I just think that’s what screws up the majority of relationships nowadays. Prejudice still happens, of course, but it was a lot more prevalent back then, probably.” 

Cas squints at Dean, staring hard, as if he can pick through his brain. “I’d have to disagree. It seems to me people might think they’re just worried about wounding their pride when they confess something - whether it’s affection or not - but prejudice often has a lot to do with it as well. There are class differences, racial tension, even issues with gender and sexuality that someone might not think about consciously, but which still affect their everyday decisions regardless.” 

Dean sits back, bringing his knee up to wrap an arm around it while letting his other leg dangle from the edge of the couch. “You know a lot about humanity for someone who’s only been one for a little while.” 

“Maybe, but I observed humanity for a long time. It was fascinating. And heartbreaking.” He pauses and scowls. “And I feel it now, too. I felt it as an angel, I wasn’t completely heartless, but everything is… amplified.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to do with that. He barely knows what to do about the emotions he feels, so any advice would be dubious at best and completely useless at worst. Something else about what he said catches Dean’s attention. “I know you weren’t heartless, Cas.” 

“Do you?”

Memories flicker through his consciousness as Cas stares at the fire and Dean stares at his best friend. First, the bad - all the times Castiel betrayed them, even if it was with the best of intentions. All the shit with the angels when they first met, with the God business, with the Leviathan. Hell, even the kiss Cas had shared with Meg felt like a weird form of betrayal, and he’d felt... well, he never did truly analyze the bone-deep hurt he’d felt that day, but it was there. 

Then, though, the good - how Castiel, Angel of the Lord, had turned his back on Heaven itself to help the Winchesters. To help Dean. Words they’d said over the years - _I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to keep them away from you_ \- play in his head like a rusty old turntable that desperately needs a new needle. Of course Cas wasn’t heartless; if anything, he was the most loyal of all, risking everything, _everything_ , for Dean and Sam. Time and time again. 

But he doesn’t know how to verbalize it, can’t figure out the right combination of words to let Cas know that _of course_ he doesn’t think the poor bastard was a heartless angel the whole time. So he agonizes and says nothing until Cas sets the book on the coffee table and gets up to presumably head to bed. The words practically force themselves out, begging for air to breathe. 

“Yeah, Cas, I do.” 

Cas stops walking and turns imperceptibly towards Dean. All he said was that he really didn’t think Cas was horrible as an angel, but they both know in that moment that Dean is saying a hell of a lot more. For a moment Dean is terrified Cas will pick up on _everything_ , every nuance of emotion that burns through Dean when he looks at his strange friend, but Cas just barely smiles with the corners of his mouth and continues for the bed, no other words exchanged. 

It takes a couple of seconds for the air to unfreeze and then Dean is blowing out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. It’s easy, in this fucking fake cabin in the middle of nowhere, to forget that his actions have consequences. He can’t just… go around saying shit like that to Cas, not when everything is new and weird and they’re still getting used to Cas’ human legs, so to speak. Maybe, after this whole mess with Gabriel is all said and done, he can pull his head out of his ass and say the thing that’s been on his mind for the past 5 years. 

Except, he most likely never will because everything he loves dies and Cas has died more times than most and if that isn’t the universe giving him the middle finger, he doesn’t know what is. 

~

The first thing Castiel hears when he wakes up the next morning is the sound of waves crashing along a beach, and seagulls. 

He shoots up out of - wait, not a bed, he’s in a _sleeping bag_ in a tent and he rubs his eyes sleepily, hoping with everything he’s got that Gabriel didn’t separate Dean from him. Hopefully there’s another tent just outside. 

The breeze rustles the tent and he closes his eyes. If he still had his wings, he’d be able to just fly them somewhere else. It would be simple. Gabriel could still screw them over, clearly, but he would be able to make sure he’s not separated from Dean. He always finds him, even in Gabriel’s odd creations. 

Feeling useless, he sighs and gets to his knees, hand reaching for the zipper and anxiety building in his gut. What if he’s alone? What’s he going to do? It sounds like the ocean is nearby, like this tent is on the sand. If Gabriel stuck him on a deserted island _by himself_ -

That thought is cut off by what sounds like quick footsteps approaching his tent. Cas holds his breath and attempts to stay still, even though a bright blue tent on what he assumes is a beach isn’t exactly inconspicuous. The steps get closer and a hand reaches forward to unzip the tent from the outside. 

“Cas?” Dean’s worried face comes into view and Castiel nearly laughs with relief. Instead, he reaches forward to grab Dean’s forearm, collapsing his weight onto his other hand and bowing his head. “Hey man, you alright? I don’t know where we are, but I’m so goddamn glad that you’re here, too.” 

Tears prickle in Castiel’s eyes, and he pauses to get ahold of himself before looking up. Now is not the time to discover how human emotions seem to be directly wired to the tear ducts. He inhales through his nose deeply before bringing his eyes up to meet Dean’s. The hunter looks concerned. 

“I’m fine. I’m… extremely happy to see you here, too. I couldn’t bring myself to open the tent.” Dean leans back and grabs a hold of Castiel’s forearm - the same one Castiel is still reaching forward to grab onto Dean with, he hasn’t let go - and pulls him out of the tent. He lets go as soon as he’s up, a blush rising on his cheeks. 

Outside, it’s like he expected, a seemingly deserted island, but it’s so much more beautiful than he could have imagined. Behind them are large palm trees, and ahead of them is a bright, clear blue ocean. The waves are coming in gently against the stark white sand, and Dean’s bright red tent is sitting 50 or so yards away from Castiel’s. As far as he can tell from first glance, that’s all there is here: the two of them and their tents and sleeping bags. 

And their clothes. Dean is wearing these awful green swim trunks and a “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” shirt, and Castiel gasps as he looks down at himself. The black, short swimming shorts are obscenely tight and his shirt is a weird brown color with the words, “Awkward Is My Specialty” written in bold letters across his chest. He grits his teeth. _Gabriel_. 

Dean smirks at Castiel’s shirt but grimaces at his own. “I’m not even Irish.” 

It’s time to move on from the terrible clothing choices. “Do you think there’s any food lying around here anywhere?” Castiel says, flat and low, without any real hope in a positive answer. The grim look on Dean’s face tells it all. 

“I’ve only been awake for a few minutes, but from my first glance around when I got up, I’m guessing not. The island seems to be big, though, so who knows what might be around the corner. I’m just hoping we don’t run into any dinosaurs,” he chuckles. 

Castiel tilts his head quizzically. “Why would dinosaurs be a problem? Do you think Gabriel possibly sent us back in time?” 

Dean sighs and looks toward the sky, shaking his head. “Cas, when we get back to the bunker, we’re having a movie marathon. It’s going to last at least two weeks, non-stop. You need to be educated.” 

Deciding to let the matter go, Castiel looks to the left and to the right, trying to decide which way might be more efficient to start walking first. They need to find water, and fast. The sun is beating down, hot and bright, and sweat is beginning to bead on the back of his neck just from standing underneath it. 

“Let’s try going this way first. If we find nothing after 15 minutes of walking, we’ll walk back and try the other way. I don’t believe Gabriel would have just left us here to die of dehydration, he’s much more creative than that.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, nudging Castiel’s shoulder with his arm. “Way to be positive, dude.” 

Cas nudges him back. “I do my best.” 

~

There is nothing - _nothing_ \- on this godforsaken island. Dean is practically gasping for breath as they walk back toward the tents for what feels like the hundredth time that day. In reality, according to the sun (and Cas), it’s only been approximately three hours since he discovered Cas in his tent, looking anxious and sleepy and goddamn adorable. 

It made his heart do funny backflips in his chest when he’d seen the relief in Cas’ eyes at seeing Dean open his tent, and he’s spent the last few hours thinking about it. Normally, he’d attempt to think of anything else, but with the threat of dehydration over their heads, a distraction was in order. 

Thinking about it for hours on end did nothing to solve the dilemma. He has feelings for one of his best friends. Hell, maybe even the best friend he’s ever had - no one else had stuck with Dean for this long without either leaving him or wanting to kill him, though he supposes Cas has actually done both of those things before. The difference is that he’s done those things, and yet _here he is_. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, is consistently by Dean’s side, and even though it’s been years, Dean likes to think they still have their “profound bond” from the early days. 

Again, admitting all of this to himself in his head is doing nothing to solve the burning _what next_ feeling in his gut. The proper answer is to survive in this barren hell that Gabriel has sent them to, but that’s also the obvious answer. What if they die on this island? What if Gabriel sent them here, but is now distracted up in heaven fighting an all-out war and forgets to bring them back? Anything is possible with him, which is absolutely terrifying to consider. 

Dean is just getting himself worked up over what Gabriel could possibly be doing right now when Cas makes a surprised noise next to him. He stops and turns to Cas, intending to ask what’s going on, but stops short when he notices Cas has his arm outstretched and is pointing at something ahead and slightly to the right. 

It’s a person.

Dean lifts a hand to Cas’ arm, lowering it gently and slowly. He’s trying not to make any sudden movements, because it would suck so bad if they’d made all this progress (or, at least, made all this _effort_ ) only for it to be ruined by a murderer on a deserted island. They’ve got to get past whoever this person is, unnoticed somehow. 

Grabbing Castiel’s hand (and trying not to be a fucking _sap_ about it) and pulling him towards the tree line as slowly as he can is harder than he thought it would be. Cas is… not quiet. He has terrible balance in the sand, and Dean wishes like hell they’d been given shoes when they were dropped in this place. It would at least possibly give Cas more traction. 

Their efforts on this are wasted as Dean, who has been watching the mysterious figure with unwavering eyes ever since Cas pointed them out, notices the person turn slowly towards them and begin to walk. They’re too far away to make out any specific features. All Dean can tell is that it’s a person, and they’re coming towards them with steady, sure steps. He freezes and pulls Cas close to his side, arm wrapping around his waist. 

The closer the man - Dean can tell he’s a man now, and also clearly without weapons, as he’s only wearing swim shorts and a t-shirt - gets to them, the more unsettled Dean gets. Sure, he can tell he’s a man, but there’s something…

Oh fuck. The dude doesn’t have a face. 

He stops not too far from them, but far enough to make it clear that he doesn’t actually want to interact with them. Far enough away to indicate he’s not a threat. Which is good, because Dean’s knees are buckling. He’s seen a lot of weird shit in his day, but this paired with everything else they’ve had going on the past couple of days is almost too much to handle. Cas squeezes in a little closer to his side. 

“Dean…”

“I know. Just stay still a minute.” He wants to see if this mystery man is going to do anything else but stand there and… stare at them? Except he’s not staring. Dean can just somehow tell that the space where the eye sockets should be are pointed directly at them. 

They have a stare-off (sort of) for a few minutes before Cas clears his throat. “Dean, this is ridiculous. He’s clearly not going to hurt us. Please, we need to continue on to find the water and food.” 

At those words, the man in front of them - Dean was calling him Rick in his head because it was just close enough to be switched to Dick if this guy ended up being a murderer - pointed to their left, down the beach by where the tents are. Dean shakes his head. “We’ve been there multiple times today, there’s nothing there.” 

Rick does nothing but begin to walk where he was pointing to, leaving Dean and Cas no choice but to follow. At this point they are either going to die by murder from this guy or from dehydration, and Dean has to admit to himself, murder sounds a little more entertaining. And at least somewhat preventable. 

When they get back to the tents, Dean almost cries with relief. There’s at least three cases of water and two duffel bags worth of either food or the tools they need to get the fruit off the trees along the forest line. Rick just stands to the side, and Dean imagines that if he had a face, he’d look pretty smug right about now. 

Cas rips open the package of water and practically tears the lid off of the bottle before bringing it to his lips and chugging it down. The muscles along his throat constrict with the effort, and Dean didn’t think it was possible but his mouth goes even drier at the sight. Cas’ lips hollow out at he sucks the last of the water from the bottle and Dean has to swallow and look away before he pops a boner. Jesus, the man is just _drinking water_ , and Dean needs to calm down. Maybe he’ll jump into the water for a refreshing swim after they’re hydrated and fed. 

As Cas scrambles to open another water bottle and goes to town, Dean prays the ocean water is cold.


	5. Chapter 5

The ocean in this world is _freezing_ , and Castiel hates it with a fiery passion. 

He’d wanted to rinse off the sweat that had built up since they arrived on the island that morning. He’d felt sticky with it, a steady stream of sweat dripping down his back and soaking into his shirt. Cas had waited until Dean walked off to find a tree with some coconuts on it before stripping down to nothing and hopping into the clear blue water. 

The salt content must be extremely high, because floating in the water takes next to no effort at all. It feels like what he imagines the Dead Sea feels like, and he wonders if this place is modeled off of an island off of that sea. It wouldn’t surprise him, Gabriel always did find the Earth and all it’s geographical anomalies fascinating. That was one thing he always loved most about Gabriel - his endless fascination with Earth and everything human. It’s why it’s so easy for him to disguise himself while down here; he’s studied them long enough to know exactly how to act like one. 

Before risking Dean coming back to see him stark naked and shivering, Cas hops out of the water and pulls on his poor excuse for swim trunks. He decides to lay out on the sand and hopes that maybe the sun will dry off his body, but he hadn’t counted on the sand to stick to literally every available surface - and even unavailable ones, too. 

Castiel lifts his hands, sees the gritty sand sticking to his palms, and groans. He hears Dean walking towards him and sits up, shaking the sand off. 

“Hey, man. I hate to tell you this, but you are absolutely covered in sand.” Dean reaches forward to brush some of the sand off of Castiel’s back, and he leans forward to give him better access. 

“I realized as soon as I laid down. I should… go back in and rinse off.” Dean’s hand is still on his back. It’s just sitting there. Cas shivers. 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinkin’ about taking a dip myself.” Dean grins and practically rips his grimy shirt off before whooping and running towards the water. “Race you!” 

“That’s not fair!” Cas jumps up and heads into the waves, gasping when he trips and falls forward. Dean catches him, like always. 

“No one said life was fair, Cas,” he says with an easy grin. 

Despite the humor in Dean’s voice, the sentiment behind his words strikes a chord with Cas and his smile dims. “I know.” He looks down to where Dean’s hands are wrapped around his forearms, and Dean quickly lets go. He steps away from Castiel and into the surf, arms outstretched as if to catch the waves ahead of him. 

Castiel takes a minute to admire him. The sun’s rays bounce off the water sluicing down his back, and Castiel is hit with the vivid memory of Dean’s bright soul in the pits of Hell. Castiel wishes he could still see it, because memory doesn’t do it justice. At the very least, he can still see the magnificence that is Dean’s physical body - and it’s definitely something to be admired. All sharp lines and rugged scars from hunting over the years. 

They splash around in the water for a little while longer, and at one point Dean trips Castiel so he falls face-first into the water. When he comes back up, Dean is laughing heartily, head thrown back and hands on his stomach. Castiel aches with how much he wants to wrap his arms around him and never let him go. 

Dean finally calms down and gestures to the beach before splashing Castiel halfheartedly. “It’s getting close to sundown. Maybe we should go find Rick and head back to our little camp.” 

Castiel nods and Dean nudges him and walks towards the beach, strong legs pushing against the thigh-high water.

~~

Rick really freaks Dean out. 

It's not even really the faceless thing, though that's pretty fucking creepy. No, it's the way he just stands around, face turned towards Dean and Cas, almost completely still except for when the two men move around their small camp. Which, oh right, has gotten smaller. 

When they returned after their impromptu dip in the cool ocean, there was only one tent and one sleeping bag. They had looked everywhere for the other one, the one Cas was in that morning, but it wasn't anywhere to be found. Cas thinks it might have just blown away with the wind, but Dean thinks Gabriel is behind it. The bastard. 

So now Dean is trying frantically to figure out how they're going to sleep. He even asks Rick if he has a sleeping bag to spare, and of course received no answer in return. 

“Dean. Please calm down. We’ll just share.”

He whips his head around and stares at Cas. “You'd be okay with that?”

Cas just shrugs. “We shared in the cabin.”

“Yeah, but you were dying.”

“Dean.”

Cas is right, Dean knows he is. Still, he can't seem to stop himself from being an absolute girl about the situation. Dean eyes the sleeping bag. “It's awfully small for two grown men.” 

Rolling his eyes, Cas says, “We’ll figure it out. It might be warm enough tonight that we can unzip it and lay on top of it.” 

So Dean lets it go. They lounge around, find supplies near the edge of the tree line to build a small fire. Not much is said, but it isn't uncomfortable for them. Dean basks in the comfortable silence, almost wishing this could be like a vacation instead of basically kidnapping. 

Night falls, and Cas yawns and says goodnight, crawling into the tent and onto half of the unzipped sleeping bag. Dean closes his eyes, breathing out unsteadily. This is not a big deal. It's not. 

He heads in after a few moments and gingerly lays down next to his friend. Castiel’s breath is even and slow, which makes Dean think he's asleep, but the silence is broken not long after Dean enters the tent. 

“Dean?” 

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

Dean turns his body towards Cas, who is turned his way and has his eyes closed. “What for?”

“Everything,” Cas mumbles, and falls asleep. 

Dean slips out of consciousness with a smile on his face. 

The next day passes much like the first. And the one after that. And the one after that. By the time they'd been there what Dean thinks is close to a week, they're getting restless. 

The food/water situation hasn't been a problem. They've rationed slowly through the supply that appeared on their first day, opting to eat some of the fruit in nearby trees for meals occasionally. Sometimes they take walks along the endless beach together, sometimes separately. It’s peaceful, but by the end of the week, it's also equally boring. And the sexual tension is killing Dean. 

Once, three days in, Dean had accidentally walked around a corner to their dubbed “bathing area” just as Cas was getting out of the water, gloriously naked. His breath had caught in his throat and face immediately flushed red. Dean had turned away quickly to avoid being seen, but the damage had been done. Dean now knows Castiel is as perfect naked as he is in that stupid trench coat. 

And the sleeping arrangement. The morning after their first night in the same tent, Dean had woken up to his best friend in his arms, face buried in the man’s unruly hair. He’d basked in it for approximately 10 seconds before quickly leaping out of the tent and away from Cas before he’d woken up. This happens nearly every morning, and Dean wishes like hell he could just enjoy it instead of trying to hide his affections. 

Surprisingly, he hasn’t felt the panic he’s been waiting for. The “oh shit I'm in love with a man and don't know what I'm doing” panic. He's known he's at least somewhat bisexual for years, but hadn't really met a man he liked enough to pursue something. When it comes to Cas, the repression has been there because… well, because it's Cas. And he's an angel. Or, was. It's gotta be sacrilegious or something to fantasize about getting in the pants of an angel.

Dean used to fantasize about Castiel becoming human somehow and finally feeling comfortable making some kind of move. However, when he saw Cas at April’s - he was just scared. Even after Ezekiel brought him back, everything felt more fragile and unsteady. Not to mention the fact that Cas is his best friend - and he doesn't know how to navigate a relationship change from platonic to romantic or sexual. 

Dean groans, putting his head in his hands and willing away the sudden headache. He needs to just calm down and focus on the now. 

Cas is taking a nap in the tent and Rick is standing by the water, not too far away from Dean’s place in the sand. He grimaces when he lifts an arm and sniffs, wishing like hell there was a shower out here or something. He strips the grimy t-shirt off and throws it beside him. 

“We can try to wash it along the rocks. It'll be salty afterwards when it dries, but it's something.” Cas materializes out of nowhere and Dean jumps. 

“Jesus, Cas! Give a guy some warning!”

Cas sits down next to Dean and looks down at his own shirt. It’s just as gritty as Dean’s, and you can barely see the words “Awkward is My Specialty” behind the caked sand and dirt buildup. Cas takes his off and tosses it by Dean’s. The sun has made Castiel’s skin darker over the course of the week, and Dean likes the way the color clashes with the sand below him. He looks back up and sees Cas staring at him, amusement clear by the crinkle of his eyes. Dean quickly looks away, blush rising from his throat up to his cheeks and he clears his throat. There was no way to deny he was just checking his friend out, and he thinks Cas knows that. 

But, thankfully, Castiel decides not to comment. Instead, he says, “Have you been praying to Gabriel?” 

“Not really, not since our first day here. I’ve just kinda figured he knows what he’s doing.” 

Cas nods, absentmindedly tracing patterns into the sand in front of him with his hands. Dean can practically feel him thinking, he’s doing it so intensely. 

“I am worried that he’s… that something is wrong.” 

“Why?” Dean wracks his brain for something that’s changed since they last spoke of Gabriel and his potential plans for them. Nothing has changed. 

_Oh_. Nothing has changed. 

Dean locks eyes with Cas again, and this time the amusement is gone. “He hasn’t changed anything here since he gave us the water and food. That was day one.” 

Cas tilts his head forward. “Yes. Normally, this wouldn’t be bothersome, but part of Gabriel’s purpose here is to test the powers he’s slowly getting back. Why wouldn’t he be doing more? Changing the weather, or… otherwise wreaking havoc on this little island?” 

Dean has to hand it to him, he has a point. It’s just not one he’d really wanted to consider. “So, what? You think he abandoned us here? Or are you afraid he’s hurt or something?” 

Shaking his head, Cas responds, “I don’t know. All I know is that something isn’t right, and we should be actively praying to see if he answers.” 

“Alright.” Dean stands up and grabs both of their T-shirts. “Let’s say a little prayer while we wash these disgusting shirts out, huh?” 

~~

Castiel prays almost consistently the rest of the day. Sometimes it’s just a repetition of Gabriel’s name over and over again. Sometimes he just sends his feelings of concern and anxiety. 

One time, he got a little carried away and confessed. 

_Gabriel_ , he’d prayed silently, _I need you to get me out of here before I do something stupid. Before I ruin one of the only friendships I somehow haven’t destroyed over the years. I’m this close to kissing Dean when he wakes up in the morning and I need you to get me out of here. Now._

But nothing works. He prays one last time, just a simple _Gabriel_ in his head, before giving up for the time being and climbing into the shared sleeping bag. Dean comes into the tent not long after that. 

“Hey, Cas?” he says, after settling in. 

“Yes?”

“What type of music do you like to listen to?” 

“I… don’t really have a preference.” 

“C’mon, man, everyone’s gotta preference.” 

“Well… I suppose it’s called pop music.” 

“Pop? You like to listen to pop?” 

The judgement in Dean’s voice is enough to make Castiel huff a frustrated breath. “If you were just going to antagonize me for my answer, I don’t understand why you asked in the first place.” 

“I’m not antagonizing you, I swear! Why do you like pop music?” 

“The beats are… catchy.”

Dean laughs and Castiel smiles. They each roll over to face each other and fall silent. As Castiel falls asleep, he thinks he can hear Dean gently humming something upbeat.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day dawned exactly the same as the others they’ve been there for - hot, sunny, and without a single cloud in the sky. Rick is standing by the water when Dean climbs out of the tent, and that strikes Dean as weird. He walks up behind him, carefully (because Dean is absolutely still wary of him). 

“Hey man, you alright?” 

Rick doesn’t turn around, or move any inch of his body. He stands completely still. Dean is starting to back away slowly to head back to Cas when Rick suddenly falls over; except, it’s not the way a normal person would pass out or faint. His legs don’t collapse or fold in on themselves like you normally see. No, he falls, stiff as a board, onto his side. Like a tree. 

Dean runs back towards the tent and yells, “Cas! Wake up!” 

Out of the tent comes Cas, shirtless and bleary-eyed, but cognizant. “What, what’s wrong?” he croaks, and it takes a _lot_ of mental effort to push aside the urge to hug him close, to take comfort when he’s so embarrassingly scared. 

He _is_ frightened - that much is evident by the racing of his heart and the shaking of his hands. Dean swallows and takes a deep breath. “I’m not totally sure, but I think I just saw Rick die. I mean, he fell down and isn’t responsive, so I think that means he’s dead. Although I don’t know if he could have ever really counted as living because -” 

“Dean!” Cas cuts him off, thankfully. “Where is he?” 

He points towards the water with his shaking hand. Cas nods and grabs hold of the hand he used to point and walks there with him, not letting go. It feels strange to be led like this, in a way he hasn’t experienced in a long time. The way Cas is smoothing his thumb over the back of his hand is so comforting, Dean decides not to comment or pull away. 

When they get to where Dean saw Rick collapse, he's not there. Dean lets out a muffled scream of frustration. “He was just here! I saw him fall!” 

Cas just shakes his head. “He was a creation of Gabriel’s. If he's gone, it's because Gabriel either made it so or…”

“Or what?”

“Or he disappeared because Gabriel is neglecting upkeep.” 

That's… great. So things in the world could be disappearing because something happened to Gabriel. 

What's next, the sky falling?

~~

The sky is changing.

It’s later in the day, the same day Dean found Rick fall by the water. Dean is taking a nap, clearly worn out from the near consistent panic attack he’s been on the brink of all day long. Castiel is laying down next to him and trying to bring comfort without being overbearing. It must have worked because Dean is snoring softly with one arm outstretched towards Castiel. It takes a lot of effort for Cas not to reach out and take his hand. 

A distraction comes in the form of an anomaly - the tent darkens, though Castiel knows sunset is not for a couple more hours. Considering there hasn’t been a single cloud in the sky the entire time they’ve been on the island, Castiel finds this troublesome, and leans out of the tent to take a look. 

What he sees makes his jaw drop - the sky, normally a cloud-free bright blue - is now turning dark and purple, with streaks of what look like lightning going jagged across the surface. Except the lightning isn’t just flashing and then going away; it’s consistent, like cracks in the sky. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152594002@N02/35081928044/in/dateposted-public/)

“Dean. Dean!” He reaches over to shake Dean awake. 

“What, whassit -” he yawns and then looks outside. That clears the sleep from his eyes immediately, and he rolls out of the sleeping back and practically leaps out of the tent. “Oh, god. What the fuck is this?” 

Cas shakes his head, exiting the tent a tad more gracefully. He wishes he could tell Dean that this is something good, but from what he knows of creating worlds as a powerful angel, this is the tell-tale sign that a world is falling apart. He doesn’t know what happens to real souls that exist within that world when it comes to an end. Cas wraps his arms around his own stomach, trying to squelch the panic rising from within. Useless. He’s so useless. 

“I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what can be done. Gabriel still has not sent word or anything to us here, despite our prayers.” 

Dean turns to him, eyebrows raised. “Cas, what is happening?” 

“It’s.” He pauses and sighs, glancing around. Rick seems to have disappeared. “The world is caving in. Either something happened to Gabriel or he just hasn’t tended to this pocket creation in a while, because it’s not receiving the power it should be. It won’t last much longer like this.” 

“No,” Dean says, voice hard. Cas tries not to flinch. “This isn’t… it’s going to be fine.” 

“We don’t know that.” 

“Goddamn it, Cas!” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated, and starts to pace in front of him. “You can’t just give up like that. There’s gotta be something we missed, something that can be done.” 

“What, Dean?” Cas crosses his arms. There it is, the famous can-do attitude the Winchesters are known for. Anything can be done when you put your mind to it. He wishes he could be that optimistic. “We’ve looked everywhere. Even Rick is gone! Don’t you think that’s strange? An omen of sorts?” 

Dean growls, a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, of course I think that! I’m not stupid! But I also want to live. I want _you_ to live. There’s still so much you have to do, so much we have to do! You’ve never even seen Jurassic Park, for Christ’s sake!” 

“I don’t _care_ about Jurassic Park, Dean, I care about making sure you’re safe and look at what good I’ve done at that so far! The only thing I want, and I can’t even make that happen!” 

It’s quiet for a moment, and Dean stops pacing to stare at Castiel. He doesn’t buckle under the weight of his eyes, instead meeting them with his own and holding his ground. Now Dean will finally understand what a _failure_ he is. How he can’t even do the one thing he needs to do. Keep Dean safe; that’s been his motto from the beginning, ever since he landed on this crazy, stupid planet, and it’s his motto now, as a dysfunctional human with the emotional stamina of a sloth. 

“Cas, it’s not your job to keep me safe. You know that, right? It’s not your job to… you don’t have a job. I mean, you don’t have to…” Dean runs a hand through his hair. Castiel’s heart softens a little, and a small smile worms its way onto his face, despite the bleak situation. Dean deflates at the sight of it and sighs. “Cas, you don’t have to… _do_ anything. For me, I mean. I mean, I just like that you’re… here. That you’re still you, and you’re here.” 

Castiel shifts a little under the weight of Dean’s gaze. He’s looking at him like… no, that can’t be it. “But I’m useless, Dean. If I still had my wings, I could have gotten us out of here days ago. I could do so much more for you. I’m awkward and clumsy and everything is _too much_ and I can’t get us out of this.” 

Dean had been walking closer as Castiel was going on, and he comes to a stop right in front of him. He holds his breath as Dean lifts his hands to Cas’ shoulders, rubbing his thumbs gently over his collarbone. “Cas, buddy… you’ve never been and never will be _useless_. I meant that the first time I said it days ago. I want you to be just the way you are. I told you years ago to never change who you are, and you haven’t, not really. You’re still Cas. I still need you. Wings or not.” 

If Castiel’s heart was the sun, it would have exploded in this moment. A supernova, exploding into a burst of astronomic gasses and heat, a fire spreading through his veins and peaking right where Dean’s hands are on him. Cas reaches forward to clasp his hands into the thin and dirty fabric of Dean’s shirt, and pulls him close. He buries his face into his neck and sniffs quietly, trying to hide how much of an impact Dean’s words had on him. 

Dean just rolls with it, bringing his hands around to link behind Castiel’s back, rubbing gentle circles just below his shoulder blades. “Shh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

“It’s okay,” Castiel says, muffled into Dean’s shirt. “It happens randomly and I haven’t yet figured out how to control it.” The sky gives a loud _CRACK_ and Cas pulls back slightly to look up. Dean does the same and they both watch as the sky begins to fall into the ocean. 

Cas realizes with startling certainty that they are going to die on this island. They’re going to die, and he’s never going to tell Dean how he feels and he’s never going to find out how Dean would react. Suddenly, with Dean’s scent in his nose and his hands still rubbing Castiel’s back, this seems unacceptable. If there were ever a time to do it, it’d be now. 

Carefully - and like a coward, with Dean looking away and his attention elsewhere - Castiel presses his lips to the side of Dean’s neck. He closes his eyes and wraps his arms all the way around Dean’s waist. He hopes the man won’t pull away, but he wouldn’t blame him if he did. 

Except that’s not what Dean does at all. To Castiel’s complete surprise, Dean sucks in a surprised breath and tilts his head to the side, slowly, giving Castiel clear access to the rest of his neck. Pleased, Castiel kisses his way up the side of his throat and across his jaw, before just barely brushing his lips against the side of Dean’s mouth, which is slightly open. Castiel leans back to get a look at his face, and his knees go weak at the heat in Dean’s eyes. 

“Cas.”

Dean looks like he’s about to say something else, but instead he surges forward to press his lips to Castiel’s in a clumsy kiss. Cas murmurs in surprise, but adjusts quickly, tilting his head to the side for a better angle. 

It’s more than he could have imagined for himself. He never expected Dean to actually _want_ this like he does. This is… too good to be true. And as Dean brings a hand from behind Castiel’s back to lay it on his cheek in a tender gesture, Cas realizes with what feels like a kick to the gut that this is all they’re ever going to have. Because the world that their souls are currently residing in is literally falling apart. How apt. 

Three more cracks in the sky fall in succession before they break apart again. Cas is breathing heavily, partly because of the kiss and partly because he’s trying so hard not to cry again. All this time, all this _pining_ , and it’s all been for nothing - they could have had it all along, and they figured it out right as everything is coming to an end. It’s almost humorous, how shitty the universe is to them. 

Dean runs a hand through Castiel’s hair, and he closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling. Hand still in Castiel’s hair, he leans forward and rests his chin on his shoulder, with his mouth close to Cas’ ear. “I’m sorry I’m a chicken shit. I would have… I would have done something sooner if I’d known.” 

“Me, too, Dean. I would have done something years ago.” A piece of sky falls to the beach not too far from them. It’s almost over. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face back into Dean’s shirt. Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck and hugs him so close he can’t tell where one body ends and the other begins. It feels absolutely right, even while the whole island around them feels intrinsically wrong. 

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” 

A tear slips past Castiel’s closed eyelid. “I love you, too.” The sky makes an audible crack again, and Castiel closes his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Neither of them move for a few minutes, and Castiel’s eyes are shut tight so he can’t see what’s going on. He doesn’t want to watch it end around him. They haven’t been at the island for very long, but it still feels like _their space_. He’s grown to like it here, even if it’d only been a few days. Even with Rick constantly watching them over their shoulders. It was like he was always checking up on them, always making sure they were where they needed to be…

Castiel understands everything with a jolt that almost makes his eyes open. He’s about to tell Dean what he’d been thinking about, but he realizes something else:

It’s completely silent. No birds. No cracking sky. No waves. Just their breathing. 

Slowly, slowly he opens his eyes and pulls back from Dean, who seems exceptionally reluctant to let go. “Dean.” He coaxes the hunter away from the embrace. “We’re home.” 

Dean’s eyes fly open and he jumps back to take a look around. They’re standing right outside the bunker door, with Dean’s Baby sitting right in her parking spot. The sky looks completely normal. Dean laughs loudly and joyfully and leaps forward to pull Cas into a hug. Castiel goes willingly, and is smiling when Dean pulls back to kiss him soundly on the lips. 

“Well, isn’t this cute?” 

Castiel pulls away to glare at his brother. “Gabriel, you could have picked a better time to show yourself and you know it.” 

Gabriel lifts his hands in a defensive gesture. Castiel has to hold back the urge to roll his eyes, knowing pushing his luck here isn’t the best idea, given they just had a near-death experience at the hand of Gabriel. 

“Hey, I just stopped by to say thanks for being my experiment. My powers are good to go, thanks to you two and your idiocy on that island.” 

Dean’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Idiocy? We didn’t even do anything!” 

“I’m mostly talking about the sexual repression you two put yourselves through. The tension was enough to make me want to barf; I have no idea how you both put up with it for so long.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “Although, I’m glad you seemed to have figured it out. I was afraid I was going to have to give you a push.” 

Castiel crosses his arms across his chest. “You mean throwing us on a deserted island with only one outfit and a disappearing tent _and_ sleeping bag wasn’t enough of a push?” 

Gabriel snorts. “Clearly, it wasn’t, given the place had to fall apart and your lives had to be in complete danger in order for one of you to come out with it already.” 

Choosing to ignore Gabriel’s jabs, Castiel decides he wants some answers. “Why did you destroy the world with us in it?” 

“Ah, yeah,” he says with a sheepish grin, “that was entirely an accident. I was in the middle of a fight with one of my exes and may have forgotten to attend to the world for a little while. It was actually Rick who told me to get my ass over there.” 

“What?” Dean now looks thoroughly confused, but this is all old news to Castiel. He’s known who Rick is since the epiphany right before they were transported back to the bunker. 

“He was my eyes and ears on the island. I saw what he saw. Heard what he heard. All that jazz.” 

Dean looks like he’s either going to burst into laughter or strangle the smaller man in front of him. “Are you kidding me? He was your eyes? He didn’t _have_ any eyes! Do you know how fucking creepy that was?” 

Gabriel winks. “Well, I had to keep you on your toes somehow. Also I ran out of time - do you know how hard it is to create a human body from scratch? I didn’t really get that particular creative talent from Dad, unfortunately.” 

There’s an awkward silence for a beat, and then Castiel asks the question he knows they’re both wondering. “So what now?” 

Shrugging, Gabriel pulls a lollipop from his pocket. “I have to keep a low profile for now. I plan on getting the deets about Metatron from the inside somehow, might have to make a heavenly visit to a soul. Either way, when it comes to a big fight between celestial creatures, you know I’m gonna call up the Winchesters. You’ll be hearing from me again.” 

Dean rubs a hand across his brow in exasperation. “Fine. Just, try not to send us to a parallel universe with your faceless buddy and then forget about us again, alright?” 

Again, Gabriel winks. “No promises.” With the snap of his fingers, he’s gone. 

~

Gabriel is one of the more infuriating beings he’s ever met in the family business. Being vague about when he’d be needing their help is frustrating, but it’s not really something he can dwell over now. Not when he and Cas are filthy and exhausted and ready to not be on constant alert for a few hours. 

“Go take a shower, Cas. I’ll set up the guest bedroom for you while you’re in there.” 

Cas looks at him, and he knows he’s made a mistake. Shit. He doesn’t know what the boundaries are, doesn’t know what Cas wants, and he doesn’t want to push him, not when this is so fresh on their minds. Cas looks down shyly and says quietly, “You don’t have to go to the trouble, Dean. I can just…”

Hopeful, Dean finishes the thought, “...Stay in my room with me?” 

Cas glances up and smiles, all teeth and gums and crinkles along his eyelids and fuck, Dean is gone. Well and truly gone on this angel-turned-man, like he’s never been gone before. 

They each have their showers - which, _oh my god_ , that water pressure has never felt better in his entire life - and settle under the covers of Dean’s bed after putting on boxers and t-shirts. Dean has missed the memory foam something fierce, and it’s even better with someone to share it with. He wraps an arm around Cas’s waist and pulls himself closer. Cas rolls over so they’re facing each other. He nuzzles his nose in the crook of Cas’ neck and places a kiss just above his collarbone. Castiel sighs. 

Dean leans up to kiss him gently on the lips. “You know, I remember your first kiss.” 

“Hmm. Meg?” 

Dean snickers. “Yeah.” His laughter stops. “I was so upset.” 

Cas leans forward to rub their noses together in a borderline-disgustingly-sweet gesture. Dean loves every second of it. “Why?” 

“Because she was your first kiss and not me.” Dean kisses his cheek. “I was mad about April, too. All your firsts weren’t with me.” 

“Dean,” Cas laughs, “there are still plenty of things I’ve never done before. And anyway, my absolute _first_ first belongs to you.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

“Love. I fell in love with you the day I saw your soul.” 

Cheesy. That’s so _cheesy_ but Dean doesn’t care. It’s the best thing he’s ever heard in his life. His breath catches in his throat and he leans forward to capture Cas’s lips in a deep, slow kiss. Cas hums quietly in his throat, satisfied, and Dean can’t believe this is really happening, that he really gets this. He knows nothing is set in stone, not with the lifestyle he chooses to have, but this moment, this thing he feels with Cas, is a constant, something that will always grow and change with him. It’s terrifying and awesome to realize that he’s going to feel this way for a long, long time. Hell, he already has. He’s probably felt this way since he first saw Cas in that barn 5 years ago. 

Dean slips his tongue just past Castiel’s lips and licks gently into his mouth. Cas is so responsive, all sorts of little noises can be heard coming from the back of his throat and his hands are stroking Dean’s back and side, occasionally dipping down low enough to grab his ass and pull him a little closer each time. 

They shed their clothes quietly, the arousal between them a sweet, slow thing, rather than a rush to the finish line. It makes Dean giddy because there is no finish line, there’s not going to be an awkward few minutes when he has to explain to his lover why he’s not staying for breakfast. 

While Dean has lost himself in thinking about the moment rather than experiencing it, Cas has been busy with his hands. He brings Dean back to the present abruptly when he lightly pinches one of Dean’s nipples, making Dean choke out a surprised groan. 

“What were you thinking about so diligently you forgot what we were doing?” Castiel murmurs, grazing his fingers down Dean’s chest. 

“This doesn’t feel real.” 

Cas quirks an eyebrow, a mischievous smile ghosting across his lips. He rolls Dean over and presses him into the mattress with his body, flush from shoulder to legs. Straddling Dean’s thighs, he grinds his cock gently against Dean’s, and Dean revels in the feel of skin-to-skin contact. Finally. 

“Does this,” Cas pants, “feel real enough for you?” 

Dean’s eyes roll back and he groans, “Oh, fuck, okay, it’s real,” and then the time for talking is over. 

It’s all tongues and lips and nails on skin and Dean has never felt like it was too much and not enough at the same time. He knows now is not the time to be thinking of previous partners, but he can’t help but to realize that it’s never felt like this. Not with Lisa, not with Cassie, not with anyone. 

When Cas breaks away from Dean’s lips to trail his own down Dean’s chest, Dean reaches down and wraps a hand around both of their leaking cocks. Cas keens and throws his head back, thrusting forward into Dean’s fist. 

Castiel is beautiful like this, Dean thinks. 

It takes hardly any time at all before Cas’ hips are stuttering and he groans out, “ _Dean_ ,” before come is streaking out across Dean’s stomach. He slows his pace, breath coming quicker himself, as Cas comes down from the orgasmic high. 

When he regains coherency, he stares down at Dean with uninhibited adoration and continues kissing down his chest and down to his hip bones, which he bites gently, making Dean gasp. 

“Cas, it’s okay, you don’t -” 

“I want to,” he interrupts, and Dean reaches up to run his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “Let me do this for you. Or try, at least.” 

Dazed, Dean nods. 

~

Sex with Dean is unlike anything Castiel has experienced as a human thus far. It’s messy and too fast yet too slow. It’s like fire under his skin, this urge to make Dean feel as good as possible. 

That urge is what has Cas kneeling between Dean’s outstretched legs, hands kneading circles on Dean’s thighs, and cautiously licking a stripe up Dean’s dick. Castiel has thought about this a few times - what it might be like to have Dean in this way, to feel him writhing in pleasure just from his mouth. He’s impatient to get to it and also wants to take his time, drag it out as long as possible. 

Dean does not like the latter idea. 

“Cas, please. Please,” Dean begs, hoarse, above him. 

Castiel smiles and flicks his eyes up to meet Dean’s hooded stare as he opens his mouth and sucks on the tip, his tongue wrapping around as he does so. Dean’s moan is so obscenely hot, Castiel wishes his body was young enough to react. He pushes his mouth down farther and hollows his cheeks. He hopes he’s doing it right, and he doesn’t have to wait long for confirmation. 

“Yes, that’s it, just like that,” Dean pants as he throws his head back on the pillow. Castiel continues, trying different things with his tongue and the level of suction. He discovers he does, in fact, have a gag reflex, and has to back off at one point. But Dean doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

When Dean’s close to coming, he pulls Castiel up gently with the fingers in his hair. Castiel goes willingly, but switches to his hand to finish Dean off. He kisses Dean’s neck gently through his orgasm and uses his unoccupied hand to run his fingers through the small hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck. 

Gasping and obviously sated, Dean pulls Castiel closer to rest their foreheads together. They bask in the moment for a few seconds, each breath shared in the small space between their faces. Castiel doesn’t know how it can get any better than this.

“I love you,” Dean says, “and I want to stay like this forever, but I am extremely sticky.” 

Castiel laughs and rolls off of him, reaching down beside the bed for a discarded pair of boxers. He wipes Dean’s stomach clean and lifts the blanket over them. He wraps himself around the hunter, burying his face into his neck and sighing happily. 

“I wouldn’t have thought you were a cuddler, Cas.” Dean teases, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t have thought I’d be decent at giving a blowjob, either, but here we are.” 

Dean laughs loudly and Castiel grins. “But here we are,” he confirms, and kisses the top of Castiel’s head.


	8. Chapter 8

Waking up the next morning is extremely disorienting for Dean, because it takes him a solid two minutes to realize he’s not still stuck on the island with Cas. 

He wakes slowly, with his face buried in his pillow and his right arm wrapped around something solid. Before fully opening his eyes and facing reality, he savors the moment. Cas is warm and comforting pressed against him, and he knows he’ll have to back away after he’s fully conscious. 

Dean starts to pull his arm back and Castiel mumbles, “Dean,” in his sleep. He wiggles closer to Dean and that’s when it hits him - this isn’t a dream, nor is it an accident. They’re not on the island, they are in Dean’s bunker bedroom. The memories from the night before flicker through his mind and he grins, wrapping his arm tighter around Cas and bringing him closer. Cas murmurs happily and Dean decides he could use a few more minutes of shut-eye. He’s earned it, after all. 

When they wake up for real, it’s because Cas’ stomach won’t stop growling. Dean laughs and presses a kiss to the back of his neck before rolling out of bed and putting on some boxers. Cas does the same and they make their way to the kitchen, hands brushing and smiles far from fading. 

“Um?” a confused sound startles them from the table in the kitchen. 

Dean turns slowly, eyes wide. “Sammy?” 

Sam is hunched over the table, looking like sleep-deprived hell, with a coffee mug paused mid-air in shock. Dean watches him take it all in for a second: their undressed state, Castiel’s hand brushing the back of Dean’s in a comforting gesture, the obvious bedhead from them both. It’s pretty obvious what’s happened between them, and Dean braces himself for Sam’s response. 

Sam stays still for a couple more beats, then brings the mug to his mouth and drinks deeply. He wipes his mouth and says, “Where the hell have you been the past week?” 

Dean and Cas glance at each other, confused. “Are you telling me we’ve _actually_ been gone a week?” 

Sam sputters, “Uhh, yeah? What, does time pass slower where you were hiding?” 

Walking towards the coffee pot like a man on a mission, Cas grumbles, “Gabriel.” 

“What?! Gabriel’s dead.” 

Dean sighs, running a hand over his face. “No, he’s not. I guess God brought him back or some shit and he decided to test his fresh powers on us by fucking with us.” At Sam’s alarmed expression, Dean says quickly, “But we weren’t hurt or anything! He just put us on this deserted island with a faceless man and made us eat coconut for a week. It wasn’t that bad.” 

Sam looks positively lost. Dean can’t really blame him. “Okay. So. Gabriel’s back, then. Is he going to be doing something about Metatron?” 

“We think so,” Cas says, “but we don’t really know… when. Or how.”

It’s quiet as Cas sips his coffee, and Dean sits down at the table across from his brother. There are a lot of things he wants to say, a lot of excuses he can use to explain himself. That he was terrified and not thinking straight. That he would do anything for his little brother to save his life. That he’s stupid and irrational and it should be expected out of him by now. 

Dean doesn’t say any of those things. Instead, he says, “I’m sorry.” Sam looks surprised, and Dean continues, “I’m not sorry for saving your life, but I am sorry for the way I did it. I shouldn’t have done that, and I should have been honest with you after you got out of the hospital. I’m sorry.” He glances past Sam’s shoulder and sees Cas drinking his coffee with a proud smile gracing his face. 

Sam takes a deep breath. “I don’t forgive you yet. What you did… Dean, that can’t happen again. You can’t keep pulling shit like that. If I die, you have to… well, you have to learn to be okay with that being a possibility. Because it’ll always be one.” 

That’s a hard pill for Dean to swallow, always has been. But he swallows down his arguments and nods. “I understand, Sammy.” 

Sam nods. “Good.” It’s quiet again, but the silence isn’t as heavy as before. Dean can’t quite believe it was that easy. Even though he doesn’t have his brother’s forgiveness, it’s a start. Between this and what happened with Cas the day before, Dean is starting to think maybe talking things out would be easier than just ignoring his feelings and doing shit his own way. 

Dean’s thoughts are interrupted when he notices a slight smirk on Sam’s face as his brother stares at him. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Sam says, shrugging. “I’m just curious as to how you two finally got your shit together.” 

Deciding it would be fun to fuck with him a bit, Dean scowls. “I don’t know what you’re talking -”

“Gabriel trapped us on a deserted island and it took us almost dying in order for us to admit we have feelings for one another,” Cas interrupts, deadpan. 

Dean gapes at Cas and Sam laughs so loudly he almost drops his coffee mug. “Are you serious? The only reason you two are together is because of something stupid Gabriel did?” Sam pauses to laugh again and Dean scowls for real this time. He glares at Cas, who just shrugs and smiles. 

“Yes, Sam, that sounds accurate.” 

Finally, Sam calms down enough to stand up and put his mug in the sink. “Well, no matter how it happened, I’m happy for you both. Honestly, if Gabriel hadn’t done something, I probably would have eventually. The sexual tension was enough to make it hard to be around the two of you.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you love us, bitch.” 

Sam claps Dean on the back as he walks past him on his way out of the kitchen. He calls over his shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. Jerk.” 

Dean makes eggs for Cas and uses his phone to play the top 40s radio station. The song that plays first is a song called Royals, and Dean has to admit, it’s not that bad. He glances at Cas and leans in for a kiss before turning off the burner and putting the eggs onto a plate. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says as he digs in. Dean beams at Cas’ delighted moans around the fork-fulls of eggs and cheese. 

This is all new for Dean - cooking for someone who isn’t his brother, listening to music he swore he hated, not being able to stop smiling because for the first time in a long time, he thinks he’s got something good going here. It feels weird to let the emotions he’d been repressing for so long flow freely through him - it’s both liberating and a massive relief. 

And terrifying, because now he has even more to lose.

Dean reaches for Castiel’s hand under the table and holds it tight. Sure, Cas has a lot to learn about how to use his human body for defense and how to fight without any major advantages like he had as an angel. But he believes Cas can do it. With Dean and Sam’s help, Cas will grow as a hunter and as a fighter, and Dean will make sure he’s safe. 

When Gabriel comes for them to help him save heaven and the rest of the world, they’ll be ready. 

In the meantime, between navigating this new relationship and teaching Cas hunting 101, Dean’s going to have to figure out how to soundproof his bedroom. Priorities.


End file.
